


Apple Juice

by TheHomieHeda



Series: Hard to Love [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, G!p Lexa, mentions of abuse, mild verbal abuse and violence, mommy clarke, snapshots of a relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-30 19:48:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19410172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHomieHeda/pseuds/TheHomieHeda
Summary: You never think about it until it's staring you in the face.She's been distant since you met her, but you always knew that you were better off than most.  She had funny ways of showing you that she cared, stupid ways of getting your attention because she didn't know how to ask for it, and terrible ways of trying to apologize.  But you've always loved her.  Since the day you met her, you loved the awkward chuckle, the toeing at the ground, and the accent that somehow seemed thicker the more flustered she got.  You were hers before she even knew she wanted you, probably, but you couldn't help it.





	Apple Juice

**Author's Note:**

> *******TRIGGER WARNING*******
> 
> There's a scene with some verbal abuse and mild violence in it, so if that's triggering for you, just know that it begins with the paragraph that starts, "Standing here, watching this man scream at her..." and ends before the line, "He's laying there, staring up at you, as you wield your weapon.." 
> 
> I have underlined and bolded these phrases so you know when to skip and where to pick up to avoid it.

You never think about it until it's staring you in the face.

She's been distant since you met her, but you always knew that you were better off than most. She had funny ways of showing you that she cared, stupid ways of getting your attention because she didn't know how to ask for it, and terrible ways of trying to apologize. But you've always loved her. Since the day you met her, you loved the awkward chuckle, the toeing at the ground, and the accent that somehow seemed thicker the more flustered she got. You were hers before she even knew she wanted you probably, but you couldn't help it. 

Somedays you get so frustrated with her that you think you want to quit, but most days you're so goddamn in love with her that it burns you up from the inside, out. Because she's never really had anyone that stuck around in her life, and the ones who did were either too distant like her or were there for the wrong reasons. She didn't know how to accept the love you gave her, and she wasn't sure how to be what you needed. But boy does she try. 

She's always tried.

~~< < :: >>~~

**4 years ago**

New schools suck, always, but that one was especially annoying. You'd done this before, just not quite like this. Not so transparent--not so out there for everyone's viewing pleasure.

At those schools you were just the new girl: blonde hair, blue eyes, and "big tits", as the boys would say. At this school, you were still the new girl, but this time you were also the pregnant girl. Barely 16 years old and 7 months pregnant, you knew what the talk at school would be. Even so, when you met her, you hated that she seemed to have already heard about you.

"I must be pretty popular talk," you tried to laugh it off. "It's only been a week and everybody seems to know about me."

She smiled, taking a sip of her Jarrito and letting out a satisfied noise after. "To be fair, I knew about you the first day. I've only now gotten up the courage to talk to you."

"I can't see why. Haven't you heard? I'm pretty _easy_.."

She looked at your belly, a nervous tongue licking her lips. "Maybe you are," she seemed to tease, "But I'm not."

Your lunches became a habit after that. She would get both of your meals, bringing it to the table so you didn't have to carry anything while trying to weave in and out of the crowded commons area. You told her you could handle it, but she professed that she was more worried for your "bump". ' _Your bump doesn't need all that jostling around, Clarke. Just let me get it for you._ '

It took you a month to ask for her phone number. A full month. And once you got it, you weren't even sure why she gave it to you. Was she just being friendly or was she actually interested in you, too? You weren't sure, so you actually asked her that very question. Because you needed to know. If she was truly attracted to you, you needed to know before the baby was born and you had to decide what direction your life was going in.

"Why'd you give me your number?" you asked.

"Did you not want it?" she replied in jest.

"Be serious."

She breathed into the phone and you wondered if she was laying in bed just like you were, what her room looked like, and how many girls she'd had in there. "I like you, Clarke. I got no other explanation than that."

"Like me? As a friend?"

"Yes," she replied, "But more."

"Lexa...I'm-"

"Pregnant, I know. It's not mine," she laughed on the other side of the phone and you felt just a little bit lighter at the easy-going nature of her. 

At the time, you weren't aware of her secret. You didn't find that out until after the baby was born. You went to the doctor, alone for the first time by your choice, and you asked very politely (and trying not to blush) when you could resume sexual activities. Trying to be extra careful, you waited 3 weeks longer than the doctor told you to, and then you made your move.

Your mom and dad were asleep on the other end of the house, and Binx was in his pack-n-play, knocked out after a bottle. You had planned the conversation to a T, and you were hoping that Lexa would just cooperate with you. You joined her on the couch, with your armed wrapped around her abdomen just above the pillow she had over her lap. You listened to her heart beat faster and you figured it was now or never.

"Lex?"

"Hmm?"

"Have you been with a lot of girls?"

You felt her body shift under yours, and her breathing changed enough for you to know that she was anxious. "Some, yeah. Why?"

"How many is some?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Is it more than 10?"

"I'm not answering that."

"More than 20?"

"I'm not answering that either."

You forced yourself to sit up and look at her, angry because she seemed so closed off. In your house, on your couch, with your baby asleep in front of you. And there she sat, building a wall.

"Lexa," you started again, trying to regain the focus you had when you started this conversation. "I know that you know I'm not a virgin. Obviously. But I've only been with one person, and that one time got me pregnant. I just...I've never been with a girl before so I'm not experienced and I-"

"Clarke-"

"No Lexa, this is important. I know you don't like talking about the 'feels' and shit, but I need you to right now. Just for a little bit, okay?"

She grabbed your hand and ran her fingertips over your palm, pulling it up to her mouth to place a kiss in the center. "Okay."

You must have rambled for 10 minutes straight about how nervous your were and how you weren't sure that you'd be any good at it the first time but that you'd get better if she told you what she liked and what she wanted. She let you say everything you needed to say and kept a soft, gentle smile on her face while you said it. And then she knocked the wind out of you.

"I don't think you'll feel as out of place as you're thinking," she managed to keep a semi-straight face, albeit with a tiny smirk. "Clarke, I umm...I've been meaning to tell you something. I uh...I'm intersex. I have a penis."

"You have...?"

"Yes."

Brief pause.

"Hmm."

"What are you thinking?"

"That's-"

"Different?"

"I was going to say intriguing," you laughed, "But yes, it's very different."

She was so perfectly still under you that you worried she had died of shock. "Are you...okay with that?"

"Are you?" you turned the question on her. "I'm more than okay with it, but I'm not the one looking at it in the mirror every day. Does it bother you, Lex? Being different?"

"It used to, until now."

You stared into her green eyes curiously. "What about with other girls?"

"There's umm....only been 1 other girl. Like _that_ , I mean. I've...uhh....messed around with other girls before but...they never touched... _down there_."

"They didn't want to?"

"I never told them."

Suddenly you understood what she was saying. You understood that for Lexa, sex was more than just a physical act, and messing around was one thing but loving someone meant reaching deep inside yourself and laying it all out for them to see. Lexa had loved a girl before you--she had made love to a girl before you--but that didn't make you any less special. For some reason, you got the feeling that it made you even more extraordinary. Because she was closed off for a reason, and yet you managed to open her up.

What you didn't know was that Lexa was closed off even before that. Even before the first girl she ever loved broke her heart and reinforced the need for those goddamn walls she was so good at putting up. What you didn't know (that night, but you found out much later) was that Lexa had never really been shown _love_ the way you knew it. Lexa's lack of, or annoyance with, describing her feelings was just a product of how she was raised. And that blueprint would be something that would leave your mind often only to jump back into the forefront at the most inopportune times.

That night you learn that Lexa is very tactile in bed. Despite not being naturally very receptive to hugs or hand-holding, she's very handsy during sex and is very receptive to touch as well. You also learn that she is very dominant and sure of herself once she gets going, but like most situations, she is not very verbal and relies on actions and body language to communicate. Aside from the occasional grunt or growl, she's almost too quiet for you. You want her to whimper, or moan, anything that shows you drive her as crazy as she does you. The most you get are raspy breaths and quivering lips against yours; that's all you have to know you've really gotten to her, but you'll take it.

~~< < :: >>~~

**3 years ago**

You made it out of school and over to Lexa's in record time. It was her first day keeping Binx at her place all day and you were so anxious, constantly texting her to see how he was doing and if she was handling it okay. It wasn't her responsibility, baby-sitting your son while you did your senior year of high school, but since she had already graduated and had gotten a job working second shift at a local packing plant, she offered to keep Binx so you didn't have to worry about daycare.

Lexa's abode was small, and in an area of town that you and your parent's were unfamiliar with, but it was clean and kept and the best she could do with what little she made at the plant. She'd been sleeping on peoples couches for so long that having her own place was still weird for her, you could tell, and she seemed a tad embarrassed for you to be there. You knew she was probably comparing her "room" with your house, but to you that didn't matter. It only mattered that you had walked into a near spotless and somewhat bare room that morning, and by afternoon, you arrived to find a pack-n-play which you hadn't remembered to bring from your parents, a swing that you knew you didn't own, and a squishy green seat for your baby to sit in while he ate. Not to mention a sink full of clean bottles, just like the ones you had at home, and cans of formula stacked on the counter.

Stretched out on the couch, your lover was asleep with your baby boy on her chest and pillows lining the floor in front of the couch, in case of an accident you presumed. You were amazed, how someone like Lexa, who you couldn't get to express herself enough to you to even say "I love you", could go out and spend money she didn't have on things for your baby. How this same girl that you were almost positive had been beaten from the time she was able to walk had been so tender and thoughtful and concerned enough to put pillows on the floor in case Binx rolled off of her while she was sleeping. And most of all, how this same girl who seemed hesitant to hug you was laying with hands lovingly and protectively casing your baby. It astounded you.

When she woke up, you were cuddled between her body and the back of the couch, and you could feel the gentle kiss she placed on your forehead when she thought that you were sleeping. She offered to make dinner, and you happily agreed to stay, and only after the meal did you bring up the surplus baby supplies.

"Lex," you said, clearing your throat. "You know you didn't have to buy any of this stuff, right? He's only here for a few hours a day and...we're not even paying you to keep him-"

"Why would you?"

You quirked an eyebrow at her, noting the very serious look on her face. "What do you mean? You're baby-sitting him. To keep us from having to pay a fucking fortune, excuse my language, on daycare. We should at least be contributing something."

Her eyes were squinted, making it hard for you to see the green in them, and her face was a wash of confusion. Finally she spoke up. "I don't understand what's going on right now."

"What do you not understand?"

"Who is 'we'?" It sounded so funny coming out of her mouth that you giggled, to which she corrected herself. "What I mean is, who are you referring to when you say 'we'? Are you talking about your parents?"

"Yes, why is that confusing?"

"I don't understand why they're involved in this."

"Because they're my parents, Lexa," You answered without thinking. "I'm 17, and Binx and I live in their house. We're a family, of course they're gonna be involved."

Her jaw flexed and her eyebrows knitted together and you watched a look of contemplation cross her features. You wrestled with yourself over how long you were going to let her internalize before you pushed her to talk about what was bothering her. It wasn't until you were getting the diaper bag and she was loading Binx and his carrier into the car that you got up the nerve.

"Are you okay, Lex?" You asked with your hand on her waist as you leaned against your car. "You've been kinda quiet. Did I upset you?"

"No," she lied. It was an obvious lie, too, and you weren't sure whether to feel better about the fact that you could tell she was lying or to feel worse because she felt like she needed to lie to you in the first place.

"What's wrong? Clearly something is bothering y-"

"Am I...I mean, do you........" She struggled with her words and I watched her jaw tighten defensively, as if she was pushing back whatever feelings were threatening to overtake her. "You and Binx.....You're my family."

It wasn't meant in a possessive way, you could tell. She was simply trying to tell you, in the only way she was comfortable with, that she thought of you and your baby as family. That she loved you, and cared for you, and that she wanted you to know that she didn't see herself as baby-sitting. She saw herself as your partner, as another parent to Binx, but especially as a provider. She wanted to provide for you. And though she knew she couldn't do much, she gave you everything she had.

~~< < :: >>~~

**2 years ago**

"She can't watch him if she's working at the shop, Lexa. She needs to be focused on her job, and Binx needs to be somewhere he can't get into trouble."

The appalled look on her face made you stop. "It's _an hour_ , Clarke. She'll only be there for another hour and then she'll be going home. He'll be fine with his toys, _inside the office with O_ , until Anya gets off."

"The answer is No," you snapped. "I told you before. Anya's never had him by herself, I mean.....Christ, she doesn't even like kids. I'm not leaving him with her just so you and I can go out for dinner and come home and have sex."

"Clarke-"

"No, Lexa! What _don't_ you understand about NO!?! I'm not leaving my son with your motorcycle-riding, leather-jacket wearing, gasoline-and-oil smelling, child-hating friend."

You noticed the change in her demeanor. She stood up straight, her shoulders broad and postured as if she wasn't going to allow you to see her wilt like the delicate flower she sometimes was. You watched her hand reach into her pocket, pulling out a small box, and your throat closed as she opened it, looking at it for a second before setting it on the counter in front of you.

"Our son," she said softly. "I thought he--But I guess that was my mistake, I'm sorry. You're right, I'll just tell Anya to forget about watching him. Raven was coming over anyway, they can have a quiet night alone instead."

You heard everything she said but the box on the counter held your attention. Inside was a gold ring with a single diamond. It was beautiful. Nothing too big or too fancy, it was so simple and breath-taking and utterly perfect. And she had bought it for you. She was trying to take you out to propose. She wanted to marry you.

And you just had to shit on that, didn't you?

Worse: you offended her, not only by talking shit about her friend, but also by making it abundantly clear how you felt about her in regards to the little boy she cared so much about. As if she hadn't already told you that she considered you and Binx both as "her people". You just had to prove to her that you, in fact, though of him as solely your child and not yours and hers. Everyone knew Binx was not biologically Lexa's. Well, everyone but Binx. That never changed the way they saw the two of you, as a couple and as co-parents. And it had never changed the way that Lexa treated him. With his bleach-blonde hair and grey eyes, he looked nothing like her, but she still found something every single day that she would tell you ' _he got that from me_ '. But you--yes, _YOU_ \--had to go and put your foot in your mouth and hit her where it hurts, because you thought she was just trying to get in your pants. Not that she's ever really had to try.

"Lex..."

"Don't," she stopped you. "You need to make a decision, Clarke."

"About marrying you?"

"No. About whether or not I'm good enough for _your_ son. Because if I'm not good enough to be his parent, which I don't see his bio-dad stepping up and trying but whatever....If I'm not parent material, then there is really no sense in asking you to marry me. This can't be one foot in, one foot out--I won't have it half-way, Clarke."

God she was right. For someone with so few words sometimes, the ones she did have could fucking gut you. You decided right then and there that she was it for you. You knew you loved her _way_ before that, but you knew _in that moment_ that you would never love another human being the way you loved Lexa. There would never be another person on this planet that could undo you the way she did. You trusted her with your life, and despite your shitty way of showing it, you trusted her with your son's life too. You didn't hate Anya; you just didn't want to inconvenience her. You didn't want your son to ever feel like he was a burden, either to you or to anyone else. The fact that Anya had agreed to keep him, and that Raven had already planned to come over for them to tag-team it....you knew that Lexa cared just as much for Binx's well-being as you did and that she had been just as thoughtful when planning for him to stay away from home for the night. 

You hated so much that you had ruined it. You hated that you ruined her plan, that you ruined her proposal, and you hated so much that you ruined the picture she had in her head of your family--you, her, and Binx. Lexa didn't know about that kind of stuff before you came along, but she knew how to fight for what she wanted and what she believed in. She knew how to stay alive, how to survive, and you got the hint that night that ever since you and Binx came into her life, she'd been focused on doing more than just surviving. 

~~< < :: >>~~

**1 year ago**

"Binx?" the dirty blonde nurse snickered. "You named your son Binx?"

"First of all, his Christian name is Bodi. And no, not the Sanskrit Bodhi. B-O-D-I. Its Hungarian, for my mother's side of the family."

"Okay, so why Binx, then?"

"My favorite movie of all time is the Legend of Billie Jean. I always said if I had a girl, I'd name her Billie-"

"But you had a boy," Niylah grins.

"I did," you concurred. "So instead, I called him Binx, after Billie Jean's brother. It's purely coincidental that the initials for his first and middle names are B. N. X.--Bodi Nicholas Xavier Woods."

"Wow, that's a mouthful."

"That's what she said."

You didn't realize the woman was flirting with you until her hand brushed yours in a certain way. You also didn't realize that Lexa was standing in the hallway of the hospital, flowers in hand, watching the exchange between the two of you. She didn't try to get your attention, didn't try to clear her throat to make her presence known. You didn't even know she had been there until you popped into your mother's office at the end of the day and she asked where your flowers were.

"What flowers?" you said, looking at her like she had 3 heads.

She stared at you, waiting to see if you were joking with her. "Lexa was here. She had flowers in her hand and she asked me where you were. She told me not to have you paged, that she didn't want to take you away from anything important, but that she could just find you at one of the nurses stations on the floor. You didn't see her?"

You checked your phone; there were no texts or missed calls from her. You called the nurses stations, all 3 of them, and asked if they'd seen a woman with flowers, thinking maybe you'd missed her.

"How long ago was this?" you asked. "When did you see her?"

"It was hours ago, Clarke. Around 2-ish, maybe."

You remembered looking at the clock at 2:15 and wishing it was already time to go. You usually worked as UC in the ER but for some reason they'd pulled you to work the floor that day. You figured that was probably why Lexa had gone to your mom to find out where you were. Your next thought was Niylah. The flirty nurse with the long hair and pointed features. She much preferred your wife's, but you were flattered by the woman's interest nonetheless. You waited long enough after the hand brush for her to ask if you wanted to get drinks some time, an invitation you declined, and then once you knew for sure she was fishing for you, you told her you were married and that you left your ring at home because you were so afraid of losing it. It was precious to you, something Lexa picked out and saved up for, and you never really understood what you'd done to deserve it. Niylah took it gracefully, nodding and apologizing, but then switching to a playfully sung, ' _Tell your wife I said she's lucky. And that if she ever fucks up, I'll be waiting to right here to scoop you up_.'

It was funny, at the time, because you couldn't see yourself with anyone but Lexa. Not even if you tried. But when you got home, Niylah's statement wasn't nearly as humorous anymore, and the flowers in the vase on the table didn't look half as pretty to you as they should have, not with a concerned looking Lexa sitting next to them.

"Can we talk?" she asked you.

"Of course. What about?"

"Are you interested in being with other women?"

"Umm, I'm gonna have to say yes, because I'm married to another woman," you smiled coyly, "And she's pretty amazing, by the way, so if you're trying to charm me-"

"Clarke," her voice strained as she took a deep breath and released it. "What I'm trying to say is...Are you interested in being with a woman.....whose anatomy...is more like your own?"

You were dumbfounded. Completely and totally dumbfounded. "Are you asking me for a threesome, Lex? I-Is that something you want?"

"What--NO! Clarke, I'm---Are you cheating on me?" Those emerald eyes seemed to burn your skin as she watched you, waiting for an answer. "I saw you with that woman at work--"

"Niylah? Oh Jesus, No, Lex. We were talking and the subject of kids came up and she said I was too young to be a mother and we got to talking about Binx and--I didn't realize she was flirting until she started touching me for no reason at all. When she asked me for drinks I told her no, and that I was married. I told her it was my fault for leaving the ring at home, but that it just meant too much to me and I didn't want to lose it. Lex.....I would never cheat on you. I love you. I need you--hell, I _want_ you. Goddamnit Lexa, _I crave you_. Like oxygen, like water, like food, like sex, like LIFE. Lexa you--you and Binx--you're my life. My entire fucking world..."

Her face changed, rapidly running through a mix of different looks before settling on a furrowed brow and a soft smile. "Those flowers," she gestured towards the vase, "They're for you. I was gonna surprise you at work to tell you I got the job. The dream job. They offered it to me on the spot. I left the interview, picked up the flowers, and went straight to the hospital. I just...It was so important and I wanted to share it with you."

"I love you," you repeated the words to her, just like you would any time you felt like saying it, or whenever you felt like she needed to hear it. 

You always meant it. And it was never something that you said out of a habit. It's just that those words flowed a little freer from your lips than they did from Lexa's. You'd grown so used to saying them without hearing them repeated that you nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard her say them in return.

"I love you, too, Clarke." You had to catch your breath, afraid your lungs were collapsing after she said it. "And I'm getting you a ring you can wear to work."

It was so matter-of-fact, so straight to the point, but you read what she was saying between the lines. It was more than just ' _I love you, too_ '. It was ' _I need you, too_ ', ' _I want you, too_ ', and ' _you're my life, too_ '. She was telling you in best way she could--even when she was asking if you needed or wanted to be with someone else--that she would do anything, go through anything, for you.

~~< < :: >>~~

**Present Day**

You're stuck between trying to comfort your screaming toddler and wanting to murder then man standing in your kitchen, cornering your wife in the same way he must have done throughout her childhood.

You didn't know this man existed, or more you hadn't heard him mentioned, until about 2 days ago when Lexa's cousin Lincoln showed up on your doorstep. It was the first time you'd met him, and he seemed very nice, but he came with a warning of the horrors to follow him. Lexa's father had moved back to town, the first time he'd been back since he left when she was 16 and in the hospital because he beat her half to death. She was released into the custody of a foster family, but was out living on the streets shortly after. You knew some of the details of her past, but there were things she left out. You could tell in the long pauses and the stumbling over her words; she was trying to dummy it down for you. She wanted to sugarcoat what she could so that you wouldn't see the rest. In some ways you were thankful, because you weren't sure you could handle it all, but in other ways you wished that she could just let it all go and let herself break open with you.

 **Standing here, watching this man scream at her** and raise his fists, you're confronted with the awful truths she kept buried just out of your reach. Her head is down, her chin tucked against her chest, and her posture is so much less "Alpha" than it normally is. She doesn't cry, not openly, but you can tell by the vein in her neck and the slight tremble of her lip that she's fighting back tears. You can't tell if she's angry or embarrassed, probably both, but you know that whatever she's feeling you want it to stop. Right now.

You try to keep yourself as calm as possible, pouring the apple juice into Binx's cup while repeating in your head that murder is illegal and you're too soft for prison. You half-ass the tightening of the lid because you're so angry at this man that you're shaking. You hand over the cup and Binx toddles his way from you to where Lexa is standing, undeterred by the yelling. You watch him, knowing he's headed to the living room where his cartoons are on and his bean-bag chair is waiting for him. But he trips. He trips and his cup falls and the apple juice spills. It's all over the floor, all over him, and all over both Lexa's and her father's pants.

"What the--Fucking little shit! Come here!" the man's attention turns from Lexa to your son and just as his giant hand wraps around your little boys arm you hear your wife's voice, broken but strong enough to grab attention.

"Don't touch my son!" she warns him, swatting his hand away from Binx and pushing the man backwards a bit so she can stand between them.

You watch as the woman who wouldn't fight for herself fights for your son and something inside of you snaps. You gather up your crying child and carry him to his room, depositing him inside and closing the door behind you. You hear noises that you can't place, noises you've never heard before, and when you round the corner of the kitchen again you recognize them as coming from your wife. Her father stands above her, fingers tangled in her hair as she tries to get up from the floor but keeps slipping on the spilled juice.

Every distressed grunt and whimper breaks your resolve even more until you finally have your mother's cast-iron skillet in your hand and your swinging at him. It connects with his elbow first, as you were unfamiliar with just how hard it was to carry the heavy pan, let alone swing it. The next hit lands a solid blow to his shoulder, making him turn around and glare at you.

"You little, good-for-nothing--" The third hit lands across his jaw, knocking him to the ground.

 **He's laying there, staring up at you, as you wield your weapon.** "Get out," you tell him. "Get the fuck out of our house and don't you ever even think about coming back, you understand me?"

He stands up, looking like he wants to fight, but you push against his chest with the end of the skillet. "Go now, or the next swing will crush your fucking airway. GET OUT!!"

You can hear Binx screaming from his room upstairs, his tiny fists pounding against the door as he hollers to be let out. Lexa's father makes a hasty retreat, and you go upstairs to open the door and haul your baby back down to the kitchen. By the time you've made it back, Lexa is on her hands and knees, cleaning up the apple juice, hair pulled back into a messy bun and face red with frustration.

"Lex?"

"I'm cleaning it up," she says, almost robotically. She's so broken, so fucked-up that she doesn't get that you're trying to help her, not scold her. "I'm getting it up right now."

"Lexa..."

"Clarke, please just--"

"Baby," you call her, and immediately she softens like play-dough. "Take Binx upstairs to our bathroom, please? I'll be up in a minute."

"I need to-"

"Let me get it," you whisper placing a gentle hand on the top of her head. "Take him, go upstairs, and get naked. It won't take me long, okay? Get the shower started."

She stands up, turning her back to you for a second and you see her arm move, hand tugging her shirt upwards to wipe at her face. She turns to you and you don't mention the tear tracks down her cheeks. She grabs your son and puts him on her hip at the same time that your hand reaches the back of her neck, pulling her down so your lips can reach her forehead. You kiss her, releasing her to set your sights on your own mission. You hear her footsteps going up the stairs and you allow yourself the few minutes that it takes you to clean up the apple juice to just cry. 

You heard her talk about it, you've seen the aftermath of it in the way that she acts around you and Binx and your parents and your friends, but seeing what you did today just solidifies it in your head. It's so very, very real--the war-zone she lived through--and you don't know how you got so lucky, that Lexa, with all her rough edges, can be so incredibly fluffy and light with you, after surviving all that. You know that you don't deserve her, that Lexa is too good for this world, and you have no idea how you managed to land both her and Binx in the same lifetime.

In the quiet space of your bedroom, snuggled beneath the sheets, she tells you that you didn't have to do what you did. "Yes I did," you answer. "I told you--You and Binx are my everything. You protected him, and I protected you."

You worry that it embarrasses her to have to be saved by someone else, someone she tries to be strong for and protective of, but you feel her hold tighten on you and you know she appreciates your words more than she can ever say.

"You swung that pan pretty hard," she teases.

You giggle as her breath tickles your ear. "Hey, I was on the softball team at my old high school, before I got pregnant, and besides, he should have thought twice about coming into our house and picking a fight."

"I wouldn't want to fight you."

"You'll never have to," you tell her.

"Thank you," she whispers after a few silent minutes. It's ever so sweet, and barely audible, but it's there.

You're crying before you even know what hit you, and she panics because everything seemed fine just seconds ago. "It's okay, Lex. They're happy tears.."

"Happy tears? You cry because you're happy?"

"Yes! I do now!!" you say, trying to get a grip on yourself. "Stupid pregnancy hormones-"

"You're not stup---wait...preg--You're pregnant?"

You nod. "For real, though? You're really....there's....You're _pregnant_???"

"I am." You hadn't planned on telling her until her birthday, but...

"It's not mine," she surprises you with the joke, repeating the same line from 4 years prior.

You push your butt backwards into her groin in response. "Asshole."

You feel her breath against your neck, her hand splayed across your stomach, and you can't deny the butterflies you feel inside. Her nose burrows into your hair and you almost want to laugh until you hear, for the first time without you saying it before-hand, "I love you."


End file.
